Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Early Morning Talk

Well, hello 2 am. Here we are again in the middle of a
jet-lagged Singapore night. We have to stop meeting like this. Really. But it
is an interesting time to hang out and there’s plenty to do. Catch up on e-mails,
read, brush up on Solitaire skills. And yes, a full day of teaching ahead, but
the first two days have been fine, wholly energized by the privilege of sharing
my life’s work with eager, fun, attentive and appreciative children who leave
class humming the song they’ve just learned to play, sing and dance.

Singapore joins Spain, Salzburg, Sao Paolo, Sydney and Scotland
as S-places where I seem to have taught a lot. 2008, 2011, 2015, 2016, 2017, to
be exact, at three different International Schools, a University, a Conference,
an Orff Chapter workshop. In my spare time, I’ve been on the Singapore Flyer
Ferris Wheel, strolled the Botanic Gardens, seen the aquarium, went to a
Balinese gamelan rehearsal in Little India, sipped a Singapore Sling at Raffles
Bar, enjoyed the mix of Indian, Malay and Chinese cuisine and culture, walked
pass the uninviting posh stores in the mage-Malls.

It’s an interesting place, to be sure, but a bit too much on the
consumer than the cultural side for my taste (though as is always the case with
places with lots of money, plenty of opportunities to hear all kinds of music
or see theater and dance). But except for the buzzing energy in one-storied
buildinged Little India, I’m not feeling much of the spirit of the street or
the village —it gets buried under the pop-music blaring in the Malls and people
mostly out shopping for goods. Then there’s the whole government response to
marijuana and chewing gum.

But I don’t come here to either judge or wholly partake of the
place. It’s the great gift of working with all sorts of kids doing what I do
best that brings satisfaction to the blog-titled “traveling music teacher.” And
now alongside the always-fun and musically-satisfying activities and chances to
help kids feel more musical than they’ve ever been and help their teachers
consider the pedagogical details to apply to their own inspired teaching, I’m
talking to the kids more than ever about kindness and social justice. Mostly in
the context of the African and African-American material, but not exclusively.

If I’m to be remembered for any particular talent, I would be
happy that someone noticed my honed-over-years ability to talk to 3-year olds
and 8th graders about the same subject in a way that makes sense to
them. I put the story of politically-approved, religiously-sanctioned,
economically-motivated and pseudo-scientifically-justified human cruelty in the
context of the child’s world of being nice to friends and knowing what it’s
like to be teased or bullied or ignored and how brave one must be to break the
cycle of harm. And I’m noticing a profound hush falling over the room these
days as kids ponder what I’m saying. They’re really listening.

And I often end with, “My generation did our best to stop these
things, but we didn’t do well enough. I hope you can do better.” And then, of
course, a song to complete it all.

I am completely convinced that, in the words of the Albert King
song, “had we told it like it was, it wouldn’t be like it is.” The fact that we
don’t tell kids the truth about what happened before and why or tell it in a
bland and matter-of-fact way (“Slavery in the United States lasted from 1619 to
1863…”) has everything to do with why we haven’t been able to heal the gaping
wound of institutional racism and sexism and classism and all the other isms
that have grown fat on our silence and reared their ugly heads with renewed
vigor and power. Schoolteachers and parents, take note. And I’m not talking
about leftist political indoctrination here. That’s boring and unfair to the
child. I’m talking about counting on the inherent compassion and sense of
justice children feel even as they grab their sister’s toys and finding a way
to connect the personal with the historical forces at the child’s level. It’s
not easy, but it’s necessary.

So, 2am, I hoped to use this time to steer slightly left of the
political catastrophe and just return to the blog’s original “confessions of a
traveling music teacher” begun six years ago with my trip to Korea. Give the
armchair traveler the feeling of being in another place enjoying the
perspective of wandering through and witnessing the passing parade of humanity.
But these days the true north of every confession is the re-doubled commitment
to keep revealing all the Emperors with no clothes while doing the day-to-day
healing work of laughing with and loving children and the adults who teach
them. And now it’s 3 am and time to restore myself with needed sleep so I can
work and play with full-energy today.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Followers

About Me

“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” (E.B. White).
Early on in my adult life, I was convinced that the world is a mess that needs fixing. But I also sensed that life is short, that miracles and beauty abound and that we would do well to pay attention to them. In a stroke of good fortune, I stumbled on a life that allowed both to happen at once. Teaching music at The San Francisco School with children between three and 14 years old guaranteed a fair share of miracles and beauty. The sense that happy children playing, imagining, thinking and creating might help a bit with that improving-the-world side of things made it easy to plan my day.
Alongside my 43 years at The San Francisco School is a parallel life of traveling and teaching the Orff approach to music education—some 45 countries to date banging on xylophones and slapping our bodies. This blog now in its eighth year sharing these experiences. Settle back in your armchair and enjoy!